Chit Chat Over Paraguay
by sb4ever
Summary: What happened when Webb and Galindez headed back to the United States after that mission to Paraguay? A missing scene


Chit Chat Over Paraguay

Rating: K

Genre; Missing scene

Disclaimers: Not mine

Spoilers: Not really

Summary: What happened when Webb and Galindez headed back to the United States after the mission to Paraguay? A missing scene.

A/N: This was posted previously at the WebbMac site.

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"Never been in first class before," commented Victor Galindez as he leaned back in the comfortable wide leather seats.

"You gonna talk the whole flight back?" growled a testy Clayton Webb. He'd tried to keep up a stiff upper lip in front of Sarah and especially Rabb but damned if he'd keep it up all the way back to the States with Galindez. Every little movement was painful.

"No, sir," was the prompt response. "I was just making an observation."

"Well, keep your observations to yourself," Webb snapped.

"Yes, sir," answered Gunny politely. He knew the effects of the painkiller were wearing off and there were no more to give the ailing CIA agent. Mr. Webb would just have to tough it out until they could get him to a medical facility in Miami.

Damn! Thought Webb. He hadn't meant to jump on Galindez like that. In fact, he was grateful to the Marine for all his help. He wasn't sure if he'd still be alive if Galindez hadn't found that small clinic in that godforsaken out of the way town. But the pain made it difficult to be a pleasant traveling companion.

"You don't need to sir me, Galindez," said Webb trying to be more cordial. "I'm not an officer."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Webb," replied Gunny dimple showing. "Whatever you say, sir." The spook might not have been an officer like the Colonel and Commander Rabb but nonetheless, Gunny considered him to be on par with their rank.

A sardonic smile lifted the corner of Clay's lips. He could see this was one battle he was going to lose.

An attractive flight attendant stopped at their row. "We'll be taking off shortly. Please fasten your seat belts," she said pleasantly before moving on.

As he fastened his belt, a faint clicking sound caught Gunny's ear. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Webb having difficulty inserting one end of the seat belt into the other. The hand tremors had returned. Gunny waited patiently knowing the man would not appreciate his help.

Damn! thought Webb. Wouldn't you know it? My hands were perfectly fine until I had to buckle this goddamned seat belt! Damn these tremors!

"Excuse me," interrupted the flight attendant as she returned to make sure proper take-off procedures were being observed. "Would you like some help with that seat belt?"

"NO!" responded Webb through clenched teeth.

The woman was startled at the vehement monosyllable.

Gunny smiled at her apologetically. "I'll take care of it…," he peered at her name tag, "…Jan."

He has a very cute smile, thought the attendant in appreciation. "Thanks. If you need anything, just ask."

"We will."

Gunny pretended to read the in-flight magazine while Webb continued to struggle with the belt. Finally, there was a click—it was fastened. Webb leaned back in his chair exhausted from his battle with the buckle.

How was he going to last the three hour flight to Miami? he wondered.

"How 'bout some aspirin?" suggested Gunny.

"What?" asked an irritated Webb.

"Would you like me to ask the flight attendant for some aspirin?" Gunny repeated patiently. "It won't be as good as the painkiller you took but it'll be better than nothing."

"I don't think aspirin is going to cut it."

"Might take the edge off, sir. Just a suggestion, sir," Gunny pointed out matter-of-factly.

Galindez was right, thought Webb. Anything would help. "All right," he agreed reluctantly.

"I'll ask the attendant for some."

Good! At least Mr. Webb wasn't being stubborn about this, Gunny thought as he unbuckled his seat belt. He tapped the attendant on the shoulder.

"Excuse me, Jan."

"Sir! You need to be belted in," she instructed.

"I promise to put on my seatbelt as soon as I get some aspirin for my friend," he explained. "He gets migraines. Sometimes aspirin helps."

"Of course," sympathized Jan. "Why don't you return to your seat and I'll bring you some with a bottle of water."

"Thanks," smiled Gunny.

He _is_ cute, thought Jan as she reached for the first aid cabinet in the galley. She took out a couple of packets and pulled a bottle of water from the cart.

"Be back in a minute," she told her partner.

"Here you are, sir," said Jan as she handed Gunny the aspirin and water.

"Thanks again," smiled Gunny.

"You're welcome, sir. Is there anything else I can do for you or your friend?"

"There is."

Her head tilted as she waited for his request. "Yes?"

"It's Victor."

An answering smile appeared on her face. "Is there anything else I can do for you…Victor?"

"Maybe later. Thanks again." He turned to his flying companion. "Here you go, Mr. Webb," as he twisted off the cap of the water bottle. "You want two or four aspirins?"

"Is that all she gave you?"

"Fraid so, sir."

"Give me the four," he said in resignation. "When I need more, I'll have you ask 'Jan'," he smirked. The byplay between the two had not gone unnoticed by him. He might be in pain but he was still a spook very much aware of his surroundings.

"Just let me know when," said Gunny with a small smile.

Quickly, Webb disposed of the four pills. "You know, Galindez, I think some of that Harmon Rabb charm may have rubbed off on you."

"Don't need it, sir. My mother says I have a charm all my own," he grinned.

"So does mine."

An understanding look passed between the two men.

"I guess most mothers are alike, sir."

"I guess they are."

"Why don't you try to get some sleep, sir? It'll help pass the time."

"I'll try." Maybe he'd dream of Sarah.

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"Your friend looks a little worse for wear," commented Jan nodding in the direction of Webb.

"Accident," Gunny responded. "Nothing serious." If you classify being tortured almost to death as 'nothing serious', he added silently.

"That must've been a relief." She liked this man. "I saw on the manifest you're making a connecting flight. Do you think your friend would like a wheelchair? It may be easier."

Mr. Webb in a wheelchair? I don't know if he'd like that idea, thought Gunny. It would be a sign of weakness and a spook doesn't do that. "How far would it be from our terminal to our connecting flight?"

"Which airline? It's not noted on the manifest."

"Private jet."

Jan's eyes became wide. "Oh!" She looked thoughtful. "Galindez," she murmured to herself. "Are you someone important that I should know about?"

Gunny chuckled quietly. "Not me. My friend here has the connections. I'm just a Marine going along for the ride."

Her expression softened. "Just a Marine? I think not."

He picked up on her change in tone. "Family in the military?"

"My oldest brother just retired from the Marines after twenty years of service," she shared. "We're very proud of him…and every other person that serves our country," she said warmly. "Thank you for what you do."

"Appreciate your support, Jan."

Looks of understanding and gratitude were exchanged.

"I better check on the other passengers," smiled Jan. "If you change your mind about that wheelchair, let me know and I can have one ready for your friend."

"Thanks, I will." Gunny settled back in his seat, pleased with the little chat.

"Another member of the Victor Galindez fan club," remarked Webb sardonically. He'd heard every word.

"There is no fan club, sir," Gunny answered a shade embarrassed.

"That's what you think," muttered Webb. Sarah thought highly of the Marine and though he'd never say it out loud, he did, too. Galindez had conducted himself well through the several assignments of they'd been on to the point that he was one of the few people Webb trusted. "And I don't need a wheelchair."

"You might want to think about it, sir. Would be easier for you, sir."

"Maybe on my body but not on my pride. Besides, I don't want my mother getting the idea anything is seriously wrong with me. If I know her, she's going to be on the plane."

Gunny shook his head at the irony of Webb's statement. If Porter Webb was half as astute as her son, she'd know the minute she laid eyes on him that he was not well. However, if Webb wanted to present the illusion of being fine, who was he to convince him otherwise?

"If you say so, sir."

----------

"Excuse me, Mr. Webb?" interrupted Jan as she leaned in.

The tired looking man looked up. "Yes?"

"I've been asked to relay a message to you from Mrs. Webb." In her years as a flight attendant, it was unusual for passengers to receive private messages from the cockpit. This Mr. Webb must have contacts in very high places.

"Well…what is it?" he asked tersely. The pain was barely tolerable.

"She asked that you wait and disembark last. She'll meet you at the door." She smiled at Gunny. "Your friend obviously knows the right people, Victor." With a lift of her eyebrows, she left.

"I wonder who she called to arrange that," mused Webb.

"The President?" joked Gunny.

"Perhaps not Dubya but maybe Laura," Webb said matter-of-factly enjoying the stunned expression on his traveling companion's face.

"Are you kidding, sir?"

"Does it look like I'm kidding, Galindez?"

Gunny eyed Webb doubtfully. It was a difficult face to read. "I guess not, sir."

"Good. Wake me when it's time."

----------

"I can walk, Mother."

"No, Clayton," said Porter Webb calmly. "You are sitting in that wheelchair from here to the walkway at which time we will ride a cart to our terminal." Her discerning eyes had spotted the lines of pain around her son's mouth as he grimly held onto his self-control.

"I…"

"You know how much I abhor scenes, Clayton," his mother admonished gently. "Either you sit in that wheelchair now or I will have Harrison and this nice Gunnery Sergeant Galindez forcibly place you in it."

"You wouldn't…"

Porter delicately arched an eyebrow as she looked meaningfully at her son. Through the years he'd learned to pick his battles with his mother and this was one he'd rather not fight—he'd lose. Reluctantly he sat.

"Good," she smiled graciously. "I knew you would make the right choice." She looked at the other two men. "Shall we, gentlemen?"

In a few minutes, the quartet was safely ensconced on the waiting vehicle.

"What about Mr. Webb's luggage, ma'am?" asked Gunny as they drove towards to their designated terminal. "Shall I get it?"

"Thank you for offering but Harrison has already made arrangements," she answered promptly. "He looked for yours but there didn't seem to be any."

"Marines travel light, ma'am," Gunny grinned patting the duffle bag on his lap.

"A prudent move in avoiding the loss of one's luggage," agreed Porter. "Tell me, Gunnery Sergeant, how was the flight?" she asked making polite conversation as they rode through the terminal.

"Fine. I tried to make Mr. Webb as comfortable as I could on the flight but I don't think I was very successful."

"I'm sure you did the best you could," she said in appreciation. "Clayton can be a somewhat difficult patient."

"Well, he wasn't difficult so much as…what's the word I want to use? Testy?"

"Excellent choice of word," agreed Porter. "That's precisely how I would describe his mood the last time he was in a similar condition."

"Hello," interrupted an annoyed Webb throwing a glare from Gunny to his mother. "I might not be in perfect health but my hearing is still intact. Do you mind not talking about me as though I'm not here?"

"Excellent choice of word," Porter repeated as she showered a tolerant look at her son. Gunny just grinned.

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"Clay!" boomed an older gentleman when the boarding party entered. "Didn't I tell you the last time that I never wanted to see you again in my professional capacity?" the doctor joked. He already had his stethoscope in hand.

"I didn't call you," was the dry retort.

"You never do," was the even drier response. "Good thing there's one Webb who has enough sense to compensate for the rest in the family." He had known Neville, too. He nodded towards the front of the plane. "Well, let's get you settled so I can get a look at you. We'll do a full scale work up when you're in the hospital."

"I'm fine!" protested Webb even as he winced at the pain when Dr. Mason Jefferson put his hand on his shoulder. "All I need is a little rest."

"And probably a lot of other things," Mason said matter-of-factly. His sharp eyes were assessing his patient's physical condition. "It'll only take a few minutes, Porter," he informed his friend. "He seems to be holding his own right now but I can see he's in pain. Let me take care of that."

"Thank you, Mason."

He patted her arm. "He came back…alive," he told her gently. "You focus on that." With a nod, he went to join his patient.

Porter took a deep breath to compose herself and turned a smiling face towards Gunny. "Why don't you make yourself comfortable, Gunnery Sergeant Galindez? I'll have Harrison bring you something to eat and drink."

Gunny could see that the woman needed a few minutes alone to deal with the emotions of seeing her son return alive from yet another mission.

"I'd like to wash up first, ma'am, if you don't mind."

"Of course not, Gunnery Sergeant," she assured him. "The lavatory is right back there. If you need anything, please let Harrison or myself know."

"Thanks, ma'am."

Porter sat quietly in the back waiting for the doctor's initial prognosis. Her serene exterior masked the anxiety she felt. No matter how many missions Neville and now Clayton went on, she could never shake the tension that accompanied each operation.

She took another deep breath to calm herself. Mason was right…she should concentrate on her son making it back home alive and relatively intact.

She turned towards the galley. "Harrison?"

Instantly he was by her side. "Yes, Mrs. Webb?"

"Gunnery Sergeant Galindez should be out shortly. Bring some refreshments for him."

"Certainly."

As though on cue, Gunny exited the lavatory.

"Please have a seat, Gunnery Sergeant," invited Porter. "We won't be leaving quite yet. Dr. Jefferson will be a while more examining Clayton."

"Thanks, ma'am." He settled down in the seat she indicated across from her. "And ma'am?"

"Yes, Gunnery Sergeant?"

"The name is Victor." He flashed his dimple. "Much easier than saying Gunnery Sergeant Galindez all the way back to DC."

"I think I'd like that…Victor," she smiled. "And you must call me Porter."

"I don't think so, ma'am."

"You have my permission, Victor."

"I appreciate that ma'am, but I can't."

"Can't or won't?" she asked in amusement.

"A little of both."

"Then you must call me whatever makes you feel comfortable," she smiled. "Do you have a place to stay when we arrive in DC?" she asked changing the subject.

"Not yet, ma'am. There hasn't been time to make arrangements."

"Then stay with us," she said firmly. "It's the least I can do for the person who helped Clayton."

"I'm the one that got him in that situation in the first place!" protested Gunny. "Colonel MacKenzie and Commander Rabb were the ones that helped!"

"I shan't argue with you, Victor. I know what happened and I shall be forever grateful to the three of you. I shall show my appreciation to the Colonel and Commander at a later time but your need is more immediate."

Harrison set a tray down on the table in front of Gunny. "For you, sir."

"You shouldn't have bothered, ma'am."

"It was our pleasure," she smiled. "Harrison?"

He straightened. "Yes, Mrs. Webb?"

"Gunnery Sergeant Galindez will be staying with us while he's in Washington," she replied. "Will you please inform Marjorie to prepare a room for him?"

"Of course, Mrs. Webb." He bowed slightly in recognition of her instructions. "Will there be anything else?"

"Victor? Would you like something else?"

Gunny eyed the contents of the tray. "I don't think so, ma'am. This is fine. Thanks."

"Then tuck in, Victor, as my husband used to say," smiled Porter.

----------

"Think about it, Galindez," said Webb as he leaned back on his hospital pillow. It had been a few days since his return to DC all of them spent at the hospital. "The Agency is always looking for good people."

"I appreciate the offer, sir, but I'm happy where I am. Should the situation change, I just may give you a call."

"You do that." Webb eyed his visitor. "When's your flight leaving?"

"Soon, sir. Just thought I'd stop by and say good-bye."

"You've managed to add my mother to your fan club," Webb smirked. His mother was quite taken with her temporary houseguest.

"I told you there is no fan club, Mr. Webb!" protested Gunny.

"Protest all you like Galindez but I know there is one," Webb said with a wicked smile.

Gunny looked embarrassed.

"Well, Gunnery Sergeant Galindez," he said extending his hand, "have a safe trip home and good luck."

"Thank you, sir. Good luck yourself," Gunny said sincerely. "I hope everything turns out the way you want it," he said referring to Webb's physical condition and his personal relationship with Colonel Mackenzie. He'd been there once when the Colonel had visited. The situation had definitely changed between the spook and the Marine.

"Keep in touch."

"I will."

With a wave, Gunny left the hospital room and headed towards the main lobby and the waiting taxi. It would be good to see his mother and sisters again before he rejoined his unit now stationed in Korea. Working undercover for the CIA had been interesting albeit dangerous. Maybe one day but for now being a Marine was all he wanted to do.

Finis


End file.
